What I've Always Wanted
by devotedtodreams
Summary: It's the end of 1993, and Ivan is suffering from loneliness after the USSR broke apart. But just when it looks like it will be another lonely birthday, he receives a present... AmericaxRussia. Human names used. First Hetalia fic. ::ON HIATUS::
1. Chapter 1

I've finally decided to try and venture into another fandom... Hetalia is such an awesome series, I'm so happy I stumbled across it! :)

In any case, since this is my first Hetalia story, please be nice, okay? I do hope this won't be considered a complete waste of your time, but you never know until you try, right? Oh, and please keep in mind that while I may have grown up bilingual, my English certainly has been strongly influenced by my daily use of Swiss German, so if you think that something sounds really strange or even wrong, do notify me (nicely) about that - I love improving my vocabulary. The same goes for punctuation issues.

**Warnings:** I fail at keeping everyone IC all the time, so I hope you don't mind a bit of OOC-ness. Also, not everything might be historically accurate, but this is just harmless fiction, after all.

**Disclaimer** (oops, forgot this when I actually published the chapter, but better late than never, ne?): Hetalia and all its characters belong to Hidekaz Himaruya, of course.

Note: Interrobangs have been used to emphasize astonishment or protest because the exclamation mark gets removed if it's written directly after a question mark...

* * *

Two years had passed since the Soviet Union had dissolved, and Ivan Braginski was sometimes still tempted to call out for his ex-subordinates, particularly the ever-helpful Toris. The first few times that had happened, he had felt a surge of anger rush through him – _What was taking Toris so long__‽_ – but then he had remembered that he was all alone in this big house now. The loneliness was nearly suffocating, especially on bitterly cold winter nights. And in Russia, his home, winter always seemed to last much longer than in other countries, even if it was just the winter within his heart.

Today was the day of the year that Ivan disliked the most: his birthday. He already was lonely enough; he didn't need a birthday where no parties were celebrated and no more guests showed up anymore to remind him of his solitude, thank you very much. His trusty vodka seemed to be his only friend in those moments, but vodka couldn't talk to him or hold him. All it could do was make him forget the pain for a blissful while before it would return as strong as ever when the hangover set in.

Listlessly, Ivan got out of bed, contemplating what he should have for breakfast. Sadly enough, his first idea was vodka. Sighing, he tried to push that idea aside: he would really be better off if he had coffee (like Alfred would recommend him to) or perhaps tea (courtesy of Arthur, although he didn't really like the man). He had heard some of what the other nations said about him behind his back, and that was exactly why he tried not to give in to the vodka's temptation, for apparently no one was keen on being friends with a drunkard.

He had just started to make himself a cup of coffee (he would use some of the Nescafe he had pinched a few meetings ago) when the doorbell rang. Puzzled and surprised by this sudden indication of a visitor, Ivan went to the door and opened it to find the mailman at his doorstep.

"Delivery for Mr. Braginski," the man said, bravely trying not to let on how cold he was and being barely able to stop his teeth from chattering. "Sign here, please." A gloved yet still trembling hand held out a form and a pen.

Ivan gave the man his autograph, only to receive a rather large package in return. It had wrapping paper and a ribbon around it. A present.

"Good day to you, sir," the by now nearly-forgotten mailman said before hurrying off, eager to complete his rounds and get out of the icy cold. Ivan was so surprised that he only managed to mutter a thank-you which went unheard. Then, to stop the cold from invading his house, he quickly closed the door and retreated to the kitchen to properly inspect the present.

It was a rectangular box wrapped in paper that immediately gave away who had sent it: stars and stripes. Lots of them. Lots of Star-Spangled-Banners on a light-blue background. It was a pretty blue… but not as pretty as the blue in Alfred's eyes, Ivan thought, and the faintest tinge of pink arose on his cheeks. Yes, to him, Alfred did have fascinating eyes, and if he wanted to, the American could communicate mostly just with them. But if course – being Alfred – he chose to use his voice most of the time as well. Sometimes Ivan wondered if Alfred even knew how much he could be saying without using any words at all.

So now he had received a present. From _Alfred_. Ivan tried to tell himself not to read too much into this ('_He gives many people presents, he gives many people presents… you're just one of many…'_), but it was no use: he felt special. Something told him that he had a right to feel this way, even though he deemed himself somewhat selfish for preferring Alfred's personal company over a present and wishing it were so just then. However, in his situation, one couldn't afford to be picky.

Ivan retrieved his now finished cup of coffee before sitting down at the table, staring at the present as if wondering what he was supposed to do now. There was no cake, not even a cupcake. Why go through the trouble of preparing such a thing when he couldn't share it with anybody? And no matter how he had treated the Baltics when they had still lived under the same roof with him, he had always offered them a piece of cake on his birthday (though why they had always denied the offer unless one of them had been responsible for making the cake was beyond him, even to this day). But now there was no candle or anything for him to blow out… and yet, there was _something_ he could do. He grabbed his coffee cup and clinked it with a nearby, empty bottle of vodka from yesterday. Or maybe the day before, he couldn't remember anymore.

"Happy birthday to me," he said softly.

One sip of coffee later – he had had better coffee before, but he supposed it could be worse – the big moment was due, and he began to carefully unwrap the present. The paper was rather nice-looking, so he didn't want to rip it… but as if on cue, it ripped a bit, eliciting a small noise of disappointment from him. Well, he could always blame it on the strips of tape that held the paper together, because he _was_ being extra-careful. He only bothered opening one end for now, then he gently shook the contents out of the paper.

The box started to slide out onto the table, and the first thing Ivan saw of it was a big blue number. Instinctively, he paused and frowned, recognizing the present for what it was: a puzzle. A 1,000-pieces puzzle. Ivan couldn't say that he was particularly fond of puzzles, mainly because he found the whole well-let's-just-see-if-these-pieces-fit-together principle rather boring. Chess was much more interesting, for example. But he told himself to stop being so negative, reminding himself that this was not just any puzzle, but a puzzle from Alfred. Good God, the way he kept recalling that name, which in turn always made him a little bit excited… it was as if he had a crush on the man! Now wouldn't _that_ be ironic, given their rather difficult relationship during the recently ended Cold War. Then again – as the saying went – anything was possible.

While he was at it, he might as well find out what kind of puzzle the other nation had sent him. A brief moment of shaking later, the box fully escaped the wrapping paper, and Ivan held his breath. The motif featured an intensely blue sky with puffs of white clouds, and a field of beautiful sunflowers beneath it. Some larger, some smaller, but all with those same intriguing yellow petals. So beautiful… In all honesty, Ivan would have been perfectly happy with nothing more than the motif, but now he wasn't feeling quite so apprehensive about working on the puzzle anymore; after all, although it was far from the real thing, in a way he would be able to create his own field of sunflowers. He loved sunflowers more than anything. (Or at least, so he thought.)

Just then, he noticed that the box was missing the plastic wrapping that was typical for unopened products. So it had already been opened before… and given the intactness of the wrapping paper, the only one who could be responsible for this was Alfred. But why did he open it? Ivan removed the lid from the box and found a plastic bag with all the pieces inside, plus an envelope.

Feeling as excited as he had seldom felt on his birthday ever before, Ivan opened the envelope and pulled out a flashy birthday card. Big bright letters seemed to scream "Happy birthday!" at him, and a bunch of cartoon characters, none of which he knew or recognized, seemed to be having themselves a merry celebration. The inside was much more interesting for the Russian:

"_Dear Ivan,_

_Happy birthday, big guy! You probably got most of your presents on Christmas already, huh? Have another one! A present, I mean, not Christmas. Christmas is only once a year. Anyways, here's a present from yours truly – have fun with them sunflowers! They're your favorite, right? Hopefully this got to you in time. I wish you all the best and hope you'll have a great day!_

_Love, Alfred_

_P.S: Instructions will follow soon ;)"_

Ivan stared at his card, transfixed. Words failed him to describe exactly how he felt just then. He supposed that "wonderful" was a rather mild way of putting it. The present itself was quite something, but this card just topped it off. He reread it again, then again. His eyes kept darting back to those parts – "Dear Ivan", "Love, Alfred" – taking careful notice of how his heartbeat sped up. Perhaps the notion of him having a crush on Alfred wasn't such a wild guess after all. And besides, Alfred had never addressed him in such a way before, not to mention signed his letters like this… Ivan closed his eyes for a moment, and a happy smile played on his lips as he tried to picture Alfred fiddling with his present. He found himself wondering what the younger nation would look like in a Santa suit instead.

Since there wasn't much else to do because there were no guests present to whom he should be tending, Ivan figured that he might as well get started on the puzzle. But first he had to do something else… He went to his office and supplied himself with a pen and paper, then proceeded to write a short letter of his own. He didn't know if it had been difficult or anything for Alfred to find the right words, but he himself was struggling with them just then, for he feared that he might choose the wrong thing to say and destroy… destroy… well, whatever it was that he and Alfred shared. What they _might_ be sharing, his voice of reason reminded him warningly; for all he knew, he might just have the wrong perception on this whole ordeal. And besides, even if Alfred didn't harbor similar feelings, perhaps they were finally be able to begin a decent friendship, which the world would certainly be happy about.

On December 31st (while somewhat bitterly remembering the dissolution of his Union), Ivan dropped off an express letter at the post office. The vast majority of cards he owned had some communist motif or phrase on them (_that_ certainly wouldn't please Alfred), and none of the others had struck him as appropriate either, so he had settled for writing "Thank you" in big Cyrillic letters on the front of a plain card with a few lines in his neat handwriting on the inside.

"_Dear Alfred,_

_Thank you very much for your thoughtfulness. I cannot help but wonder if you were aware that sunflowers are indeed my favorite flower or if you merely guessed. But I guess it doesn't matter all that much, right? By the way, your remark about instructions that shall follow confused me somewhat. Would you mind elaborating on that? I daresay I am familiar with the concept of how to solve a puzzle… On another note, we celebrate Christmas on January 7__th__. You make it sound as if I receive many presents, but truth to be told, as of recently, I have made a habit of buying presents for myself. Nevertheless, I trust you enjoyed the holiday with your usual enthusiasm. _

_I wish you a Happy New Year and thank you once more for your present._

_Love, Ivan"_

On his way home, hurrying a bit in order to avoid getting caught in an impending blizzard, Ivan prayed that he hadn't gone too far. Alfred had no idea how often he had crossed out the closing and how often "love" had fallen victim to that until he had finally let it be – and he wasn't apt to tell him anytime soon, if ever. In the end, he had figured that despite how he felt about the American, he could let it be because Alfred had used it as well, and if he had used it in a sense of mere friendship, perhaps he would interpret Ivan's closing in the same fashion.

x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x-x

It was in times like these when Ivan wished that sending a letter overseas wouldn't take so long, but at the same time, he figured that just a couple of decades ago, it would have been even slower, so it was only fitting to be grateful for the improvement so far and for what most likely would come to be in the future. A week after he had sent the letter to Alfred, it was Christmas in Russia. Ivan liked Russian Christmases with their traditional Ded Moroz dolls and songs – not to mention that this was a time when people didn't seem quite as affected by General Winter than otherwise during this season – but he would have gladly escaped his loneliness to attend a different sort of Christmas celebration, like the flashy ones in America, for example. But it was too late for that now; all the others had finished celebrating, and unless he misinterpreted particularly Arthur's occasional (though lengthy) griping about troublesome relatives and friends, some might even still be recovering from it, so why should he go bother them? It wasn't as if anyone would stop by anyway…

But this year, he was mistaken. Without him having sent out any invitations, the ringing of the doorbell announced the arrival of a visitor, and like on his birthday, Ivan was surprised. As he went to the door, he kept wishing that it was an actual visitor who might stay for a while instead of the mailman. But who –

Not only did a gust of icy wind greet him when he opened the door, but a shivering brunet as well, despite the fact that he was wearing a thick winter coat. Ivan's eyes widened in his inability to hide his surprise.

"H-Hello, I-Ivan."

"…"

"I-Ivan?"

"…Toris," the tall Russian finally replied, his voice a mere murmur.

* * *

So, what do you think? If you can spare the time, please leave a review. And if you'd like me to continue, keep in mind that it might be a while before I update again because I've got important exams at the end of this month. But the next chapter is technically nearly finished, so I would be able to update again before that. It all depends on you.

Thanks for reading! ^^

_~dd_


	2. Chapter 2

First of all, I'd like to thank each and every one of you who reviewed/faved/alerted this. Seriously, guys - you blew me away with so much positive feedback! I only hope I'll be able to keep it up, but I guess I'll know that very soon, yes? ;)

I'm the middle of a FML phase now -.- Really, the time that has yet to pass until the exams will finally be over will be hell, because my parents will be gone for an entire week as of tomorrow. Life can be really cruel sometimes: I wanna laugh, dance and sing at the top of my voice while only my brother could be offended, but instead I gotta study. It doesn't exactly help that I've reawakened my obsession with Evgeni Plushenko by accident... _*sigh*_ (Of course, now that I know about Hetalia and am fangirling like crazy over Russia - trust me, it hasn't always been like this - his awesomeness has doubled at the very least!)

Oh yeah, there's something I forgot and really want to mention: in the first chapter, I said that Ivan preferred chess over solving puzzles. Why chess? Because of the wonderful fic **"The Companion"** by **Ahmerst**! If you haven't read it yet and simply love Russia/America as a pairing, check it out! It's pure love and win!

But enough of my rambling - here's the next chapter (which is quite a bit longer than the last one, but I didn't have the heart to make a cut before the end of it)! Hope you'll enjoy it!

* * *

_Not only did a gust of icy wind greet him when he opened the door, but a shivering brunet as well, despite the fact that he was wearing a thick winter coat. Ivan's eyes widened in his inability to hide his surprise._

_"H-Hello, I-Ivan."_

_"…"_

_"I-Ivan?"_

_"…Toris," the tall Russian finally replied, his voice a mere murmur._

As if happy that he had been recognized, Toris smiled and shifted, trying to find an angle at which the wind wouldn't be whipping against his face. Seeing that, Ivan seemed to snap out of his momentary daze.

"I… I'm sorry! Come in, come in!" he urged his visitor, ushering Toris into his house. The Lithuanian barely had time to shrug off his coat and hang it up before Ivan began to take him to the living room.

"Do you… um… want something to drink?" his former superior asked, glancing over his shoulder. Toris could tell by the look in his eyes alone that he was anxious not to scare him away or anything. He had felt uneasy upon coming here, but now he was starting to think that perhaps it hadn't been such a bad idea after all.

"Anything but vodka," he answered, remembering how Ivan had repeatedly praised vodka for being ideal against the cold. But he wasn't all that fond of it himself; it burned wickedly in his throat.

Ivan nodded. "Just make yourself at home, and I –" Realizing what he had just said, he froze. Toris stiffened visibly, but tried to keep smiling all the same. This behavior was anything but unfamiliar to Ivan: he had witnessed it all too often upon approaching the eldest of the three Baltics who had once been a part of him. Who had all been happy to finally get away from him when the Soviet Union had dissolved.

"Toris, I…" Ivan struggled to find the right thing to say, but the Lithuanian soon relieved him of that:

"It's okay, Ivan. I'll go wait for you in the living room… no problem."

"Really, da?"

"Yes. I came all this way… and to be honest, I'm not all that keen on going out into the cold again so soon," Toris tried to joke, smiling sheepishly.

"But –" Ivan began, wanting to believe him but not being entirely successful. _Toris had tried to avoid him so often… so, so often…_

"I'll be there, I promise," Toris reassured him and moved towards the door to the living room. "See?"

_'__I see, but how strong is your desire to do otherwise, Toris? You may be here now, but you resented me and might still do so. The way you look at me…'_ Though still looking plenty unsure about this, Ivan nodded all the same and finally headed on to the kitchen, trying not to dwell for too long on that previous train of thought.

Meanwhile, Toris kept his promise as he entered the living room, taking the liberty of having a good look at the house. Only two years had passed since he had finally been able to regain his freedom – that really didn't seem very long, given how long Lithuania had been a part of the Soviet Union – but he could tell that the house had lost much of its former tidiness, and he guessed that if Ivan didn't tend to it, the tapestry would start to crumble in another couple of years. It didn't matter that he only been to this particular room since setting foot in the domicile again; plenty of memories returned to Toris as he just stood there: memories of poor Latvia's growth getting massively slowed down under the pressure of Ivan's hand, memories of them darting around the house like frightened jackrabbits when Ivan had played with them (preferably hide-and-seek), and the times when the three of them had thought of countless plans of escape which wouldn't have worked out anyway. Toris sighed.

The room looked almost exactly like he remembered it… except for that little card table that stood next to the fireplace. He peeked over his shoulder to make sure that Ivan wasn't returning just yet, then Toris curiously approached the table. It was littered with puzzle pieces. Little progress had been made so far, and when he saw the motif, he could understand why it might take quite a while to finish the puzzle.

"I thought he didn't like puzzles…" he whispered to himself whilst staring at a single complete sunflower.

No sooner had the words left his mouth, however, when he gasped and spun around, fully expecting to see Ivan in the doorway; after all, they did say that if one spoke of the devil, he would appear. But no one was there to stare at him accusingly… he appeared to be in much luck this time. Shivering, Toris talked himself into moving away from the puzzle and going to the couch instead.

Ivan's house could get really cold in the winter, but now it was pleasantly warm in the living room. Toris smiled gratefully at the low-burning fire in the fireplace; this was exactly what he had needed after trudging through the deep snow and straining against the fierce wind. Although, come to think of it, it was burning rather low, so surely it wouldn't hurt to stoke up those flames a bit, would it? It didn't take long for the brunet to convince himself to grab the poker and stoke up the embers after throwing a small piece of log or two into the fireplace. Reminiscence swept over him as he crouched in front of the fire, prodding the embers more gently now and watching the flames burn brighter again as they feasted on the new wood. Doing this… was like an old habit that still hadn't died despite him not having done this in two years. As he basked in the warmth, he liked to think back on rare but peaceful evenings, the ones he had enjoyed, for Ivan certainly did have another side to him. Pity he hadn't shown it very often, though…

"Toris?" a voice asked quietly.

All the same, it nearly made him jump out of his skin while he actually did drop the poker. Looking like a child that had been caught with its hand in the cookie jar, he peered up at Ivan's tall form. The dancing flames made shadows flit across the Russian's face, but Toris only mistook him to look menacing for a second because of his previous experiences with the older man: one very deep breath later, he realized that the expression was merely one of genuine surprise instead.

"You know that you no longer have to do that anymore…" Ivan mumbled, though not looking Toris in the eye as he spoke.

"Um, well… you know what they say: old habits die hard," Toris replied, and his nervousness could still be heard in his chuckle although it was slowly ebbing away.

The ghost of a smile flitted across Ivan's face, then they went to settle down on the couch. A steaming mug was offered to Toris, who gladly took a sip. As the mug left his lips, he acquired a thoughtful expression as he savored the taste. Ivan watched him with the anxiety of someone who wanted nothing more than to be a good host.

"…Is there vodka in this?" Toris finally asked, eying the liquid (which was hot chocolate… well, more like hot milk).

"Just a dash," Ivan confessed. Now _he_ looked like the child who had been caught red-handed. "I-I know you said you don't want any, but it really works well, and I figured that since it was just a little bit…" He trailed off and hinted a shrug.

Toris blinked, but really, how could he be mad? He was pretty sure that Ivan truly had only meant well. "I was just wondering, that's all. Thanks anyway." The look of utmost relief on Ivan's face made it impossible for him to resist a smile too. While he may have originally only come to satisfy that small part of his conscience that had been killing him recently, he discovered that he was more and more glad that he had decided to pay this visit.

For several moments, neither one of them said anything, but then Ivan suddenly remarked:

"You look well, Toris."

This time, the brunet couldn't return the smile, for he could see beyond that characteristic smile, and he could hear the faint trace of melancholy in that childlike voice. He gripped the mug tightly and prayed that he wouldn't come to regret his next words, but some things just had to be said and couldn't be lied about.

"I wish I could say the same about you," he replied, keeping his voice low as if fearing that someone might overhear them.

The smile ran away from Ivan's face, but before Toris could cringe for fear of getting (possibly physically) reprimanded, he looked back at the fire. "You know I have seen worse days."

"That may be true, but… you've also seen better ones."

"It has only been two years."

"I meant aside from political issues, Ivan."

The silence that followed that comment was deafening, and Toris wished he hadn't made that retort to begin with. To make matters worse, Ivan was stone-faced, so he couldn't rely on any facial expressions to determine exactly how much damage had been done.

'_Oh God, why did I have to say that__‽__ If I get out of this unscathed…!'_ Panic arose within Toris as he could hardly take the silence anymore. He doubted that there was anything "right" that he could say now, and if he tried to excuse himself, Ivan would surely lash out at him in some way. Just when he was about to reach his breaking point, an absent mutter finally broke the silence:

"It _has_ been rather lonely here, I guess…"

Toris fidgeted, lacking the confidence to say anything. Even now, after Ivan had made it quite clear that his intentions were wholly good-natured and after two years of complete freedom from the man, he was still every bit as submissive as he had been before, shaking in his boots when he thought about what he might be in for now. Toris felt resentful towards himself for this, knowing that he really should have moved on.

"Toris…" The sound of his name swiftly brought him back to the present, where a brooding, somewhat sad look had become apparent on Ivan's face. His hands were folded awkwardly in his lap, and he was slouching. It made quite the difference from his usual appearance.

"I don't know why you came back, for I know that you resent me, but… I'm glad that you're here now. I really am."

Toris frowned and resisted the urge to nervously chew his lower lip. "Resent is such a strong word. And besides, I don't feel that way towards you."

"But you don't like me, da?" When Toris failed to assure him otherwise, instead simply opening and closing his mouth several times without speaking, Ivan looked away again. "You needn't bother with words. Even without them, I know the truth."

"No, you don't." Before he could stop himself, the words had left his mouth. And he couldn't stop even though the part of him that feared the Russian begged him to do exactly that. "It's not that I don't like you, it's just that being with you makes me very… you know, antsy. Fear is not the same as hate or dislike – ask Raivis or Eduard, I'm sure they would say the same thing…"

A brief flicker of violet eyes in his direction was all Toris needed to know what Ivan thought about that plan. To top it off, the man's dejection was becoming more poorly disguised by the second, and despite how much he had suffered while being one with Russia, Toris was unable to simply shrug the other's misery off. Perhaps Feliks was right about him having too much sympathy for his own good, yet Toris had long since accepted it as one of his quirks.

For a moment, they both kept to themselves, one of them thinking about everything and nothing at all while the other was carefully weighing his options so he could make his next course of action a smart one. Finally, the brunet held out the mug, his hands trembling slightly because of his ever-present twinge of nervousness.

"I think you need this more than I do," he mumbled.

Not answering, Ivan merely cocked his head a bit, staring fixedly into Toris' green eyes as if searching for an additional explanation to this offer. However, Toris soon averted his gaze and held out the cup even more insistently. Only when the cup was taken from his hands did he look up again, and even then it was just hesitantly. Ivan took a small sip before putting the cup aside and refocusing his attention to the younger nation.

"This is why I've missed you the most, Toris," he said quietly.

"What? Just because I…?" Toris trailed off, eyes widening. Perhaps the light of the flames was playing a trick on his eyes, but Ivan's eyes looked suspiciously… wet. He wouldn't… would he? He hadn't… it seemed to have been ages ago since the last time…

"You were always so good to me."

His voice was breaking.

"I miss you…"

He had to act fast. Maybe there was still a chance to stop this from happening. Toris called upon his best reassuring look and replied: "But I'm here now, right?"

Instead of answering right away, Ivan proceeded to invade the Lithuanian's personal space without bothering to ask for permission first and enveloped him in an embrace. Toris jumped, startled by this suddenly very close proximity, and gasped as his air pipe nearly got crushed when the embrace quickly turned into a bear hug. Ivan buried his face in the fabric of his uniform, the forcefulness of his movements akin to those of a drowning man latching onto a lifeline.

"Ivan… I can't… breathe…!" Toris panted, squirming to catch his breath again.

Perhaps the older nation uttered his name in response, but he couldn't be too sure since the voice was hushed and his own panting pretty much drowned it out. He was about to attempt repeating his plea when he felt how Ivan's body began to shake, and strangled noises began to escape the man's throat… sounds that sounded suspiciously like… sobbing. The moment that realization dawned upon him, Toris nearly lost all his concern to break free of the bone-crushing hug as a wave of sympathy washed over him. It wasn't every day that Russia sobbed into one's uniform, and preciously few had ever witnessed it, but it was safe to say that it was a heart-breaking sight, a sight that Toris had only seen one other time in what seemed like another lifetime. His top priority right now could no longer be to break free, but to calm his former superior down instead. With that thought in mind, Toris gingerly returned the embrace and carefully, hesitantly began to rub Ivan's back in what he dearly hoped was a soothing manner.

"No, Ivan, don't cry… please calm down…" he whispered barely loud enough that he would be heard amidst the sobbing. To his dismay, it didn't seem to work as the firm grip on him wasn't released and Ivan merely seemed to become more intent on being as close to him as possible.

'_Think, Toris, think! What else is there to do…? Perhaps… a song? That might work! Oh, but which one__‽__'_ In his desperation, Toris settled for the very first song that entered his mind, and as he began to sing softly, he did his very best to ignore his inner self, which blanched at the fact that he was singing a Russian folk song which sounded very much like a lullaby. It wasn't as if he _wanted_ Ivan to fall asleep in his arms, after all, for if he left him then, he might as well commit suicide on the spot…

Contrary to the younger man's fears, Ivan did, in fact, gradually relax. As he relinquished his tight grip somewhat, Toris' voice quickly sounded less breathless as he could once more breathe in as much oxygen as he needed. At one point, the singing nearly died as Toris struggled to remember the last verse, but he improvised and merely hummed the melody once before recalling the words. A small smile played on Ivan's lips as he listened, forcing himself to stop crying so he could hear the voice even better. The melody was so old, and it had been quite a while since he had last heard it, but it still had that calming effect that he enjoyed. And since it was Toris who was singing, it was all the more pleasant to listen to.

Eventually, Toris' voice died down, and for a moment, only the sound of crackling flames could be heard before Ivan murmured:

"I had almost forgotten how nice it is to hear you sing, Toris. And that song…"

"It just came to my mind, and I… to avoid… p-panicking…"

Ivan chuckled at the slight stammer in those words. "I didn't know you were familiar with it."

There was a slight pause. "…I've been a part of you for a long time."

To Toris' relief, Ivan seemed satisfied with that answer, and a moment later, he finally let go of the Lithuanian, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand in no apparent hurry, for it was undeniable that he had cried. Toris watched him thoughtfully, and as the Russian even used the ends of his scarf to finish the job, he said:

"You need to think happy thoughts, Ivan. I know the Union was of great importance to you, but only because it has ceased to exist doesn't mean that you need to be alone all the time. Think of it as a new chance, a new beginning."

"Do you really think I could make friends with the others?" Ivan asked. The way he sat there reminded Toris of a kid that had been excluded on the playground despite only wishing to be in the others' company.

"Um… sure. Just look ahead and be yourself." He paused, then added timidly: "And perhaps if you could, um… well, you know… it's just a tip… do something about that creepiness, that might help as well – y-you know, those little comments, that, well, make people feel… uncomfortable… and possibly scared…" he finished, his voice barely more than a squeak and his face flushed with nervousness.

Humming thoughtfully, Ivan cocked his head and regarded Toris closely. "It's that bad?" It was amazing how he could pull the stunt of being nothing but innocence in one second, then downright creepy in the next. One just never knew when that switch would occur, and that was one reason why so very many nations were reluctant to grant Ivan the friendship he sought.

"Sometimes," Toris admitted carefully.

"Ah. …Well then, I guess I could give it a try."

Encouraged by the smile that graced Ivan's features, Toris cracked one as well. "That's the spirit."

As they silently seemed to agree that that subject was over and done with now, the atmosphere itself seemed to relax, and both of them shifted as if a weight had been lifted from their shoulders.

"Ivan?"

"Da?"

"You know how earlier on, you said you didn't know why I came back? Well, I figured that since it's Christmas, perhaps you might want some company. However, I do feel rather guilty for not having brought you anything… not even a bottle of vodka…" Toris scratched the back of his head sheepishly.

Particularly because of that last part, Ivan raised an eyebrow, but then he laughed. "You don't need to feel bad; you came, after all, and that in itself pleases me very much. Besides, my last present is keeping me plenty busy."

Noticing how the Russian's violet eyes flickered towards the card table as he spoke, Toris stood up and went to inspect the puzzle again. "I thought you weren't fond of puzzles."

"You're right, I usually am not, but this one… has such a pretty motif." Suddenly, Ivan appeared at his side, and once more Toris marveled at the tall man's ability to move completely silently if he wanted to. "Alfred sent it to me for my birthday."

"He did?" Toris wondered if he was only imaging that pink hue around Ivan's nose as the owner of said nose gently ran his fingers over the completed sunflower before hunting through the other pieces despite the anything but optimal light. "Ivan, don't do that. It's bad for your eyesight." _'Great, here I go again…!'_

To his surprise, Ivan instantly let it be. "I can't help it; I just thought I could find another sunflower…" Then his eyes lit up as if he had remembered something, and he asked: "Alfred said that 'instructions would follow'. Do you know what he could have meant by that? I really don't want to think he believes that I don't know how to solve a puzzle…"

Toris nudged him in the direction of the couch again to distract him from all the little pieces that were silently begging to be put together. "Sorry to disappoint you, but no. Why do you think I would know?"

"You worked at his house once…"

"That was quite a while ago. I'm guessing that those instructions go beyond how to solve a puzzle. After all, he knows you're not stupid, Ivan. Everyone does."

Another hum escaped those thin, pale lips, then Ivan's mood brightened again as he offered Toris something else in exchange for the now really lukewarm hot-chocolate-with-a-dash-of-vodka. The brunet accepted the offer and ended up extending his stay for another two or three quite pleasant hours. And although it was evening by the time he left, he insisted on doing so because Feliks would be waiting for him at home.

"Thank you very much for stopping by, Toris. It was nice to finally get a visitor again," Ivan said as the younger man armed himself against the bitter cold outside.

"I'm glad that my company was to your liking. Now remember to think happy thoughts, okay?"

Beaming, Ivan nodded and hugged him shortly, yet vehemently. Since he was still rather unfamiliar with this kind of treatment from the other, Toris returned the gesture in a more awkward fashion.

"Come again soon, da?" Ivan asked, his eyes alight with anticipation.

"Um… sure, I'll see if something can be arranged…"

"Maybe little Raivis and Eduard can come too?"

"We'll see. I can't decide for them, after all."

"I suppose so…" The door opened, exposing them both to the frostiness of the outdoors. Ivan didn't want to surrender Toris to that harshness, but he knew it would be wrong to not let him go, so he began to play with the ends of his scarf a bit to distract his hands. "Come home safe, Toris."

"I will. See you at the next GA, if not sooner!"

"Bye, Toris!" Ivan waved after him, and Toris waved back briefly before turning around and hurrying back to the front gates where he had left his car. It seemed to be so very far away, Ivan mused as he watched the silhouette getting smaller as it fought its way through the biting wind, and if he had known that he would have a visitor – especially a welcome one like Toris – he would have shoveled the walk. But if he played his cards right, perhaps such an opportunity would arise sooner than later, he thought as he finally closed the door again.

* * *

Am I a sucker for fluff? Why yes, I am, and characters like Toris are (as far as I'm concerned) perfect to provide fluff for people who are in need of it, like Ivan in this chapter. Remember what I said about OOC-ness? Yeah, I'm sure some of that has been going on here, but like I said, I'm a failure at maintaining IC-ness at all times. If you wish to criticize me about that, please do that in a nice manner, 'kay?

The bit about the Baltics playing frightening games of hide-and-seek were influenced by two fics: **"You Are Hiding"** by **Amethyst Wolf Dragon** and **"In Soviet Russia, Seekers Hide from You!"** by **Remote-Controlled Button**. Just a little marginal note.

In case some of you might be wondering about the song Toris was singing: I imagined he would be singing "Bajuschki Baju", a Russian folk song (unless my Internet research has been faulty). We used to sing it in primary school, and I still remember and love it. And miraculously, I did manage to find the melody (didn't want any lyrics because there are quite a few different versions, none of which being what I was taught), so now I can sing it myself. If you're interested in a link, I'd be happy to provide you with that.

GA = General Assembly (of the United Nations). Looked it up on Wikipedia. Silly me, I should have known that Russia and Lithuania were both members of the UN... XD You see, I had initially been thinking about a G8 conference instead, but it turned out that Russia was added to the group in 1997, and we're talking the beginning of 1994 here.

Well, I hope this was at least a moderately satisfying read for you guys, and I shall reply to all reviews/messages until next Sunday, then I'll be MIA until the exams are over on July 1st. And then guess who will finally show up in the third chapter! :3

Take care, everybody!


	3. Chapter 3

I know I said I wouldn't update before the exams are over, but now the brunt of it all is over and done with, so I decided to be lazy for the remainder of the day. Plus, I'm not feeling so hot at the moment, but no one else should be feeling like this, so I'm posting this chapter in the hopes of pleasing at least _somebody_.

I know this is really short compared to the last chapter (the length of which will not be the standard for this story), but now that I'll soon be liberated from schoolwork for quite a while, I'll be able to spend more time on this, and while I don't want to make any promises that might get broken, I'm hoping to update fairly soon.

Note: Apparently, FanFiction documents don't save question marks and exclamation marks written together. No idea why. However, it does support a less commonly used combination of those two punctuation marks, the interrobang. You'll see it a couple of times in this chapter, and I made the necessary changes in the other two chapters too, because in the meantime, I don't want to resolve using only question marks when the character is supposed to be protesting or sound astonished.

Thanks to everyone who faved and alerted this; I really appreciate it, but perhaps you could leave just a couple of words behind too, yes? That would be so lovely...

* * *

Eventually, January made way for February, and Ivan guessed that his letter must have gotten delivered to Alfred by now. But he didn't expect a response, at least not by means of a letter, for shortly before Valentine's Day, his boss and Alfred's boss would meet to make arrangements that would hopefully strengthen the new friendly approaches the two nations had made towards one another after the Soviet Union had met its end. Surely there would be an opportunity on which Alfred could shed some light onto the whole business about instructions: it was high time for that as the puzzle was nearly complete now. All the sunflowers had been put together, and all that was left was the blue sky. That would certainly be the more tedious part because many pieces were the same color; at least with the sunflowers, he had been able to tell if the piece belonged to a larger or a smaller flower, but the sky? Until one could break it down to a couple of pieces, it really was just a matter of trial-and-error.

Alfred had (unbeknownst to the man himself, of course) invaded his thoughts plentifully ever since he had received the present from him, but especially during the last few days before the meeting, he hardly ever seemed to leave Ivan's mind as the Russian both reminisced on their shared history and wondered what he should do and say upon meeting the other nation. "Be yourself", Toris had said… but what if the creepiness the brunet had mentioned would get in the way? What then? Needless to say, Ivan's sleep during the flight from Moscow to London – the designated meeting place – had been quite restless as it kept occurring to him that perhaps he and Alfred wouldn't get much, if any, "alone time" together because a meeting in London meant that Arthur's presence was inevitable. Knowing that the latter wasn't necessarily fond of him, Ivan was sure that the Englishman would want to keep an eye on Alfred, for despite things that had happened between those two in the past, Arthur was still decently attached to his former "little brother".

When he first laid eyes on the American as the meeting was about to commence, he just couldn't help but think that he looked great: Alfred was radiant, his bubbly and carefree attitude surrounding him like an aura as he was talking into a cell phone. Ivan glanced back at his boss and suggested that he would follow as soon as he had greeted Alfred. To his relief, the suggestion was approved, and the two presidents went ahead into the meeting room. Ivan took a deep breath, then began to approach Alfred, who was still babbling away merrily.

"…seems like ages since we last met. …Yeah, but– Iggy, stop _nagging_! We're cool! Will you get off my back if you can come to lunch too? Yeah? Awesome!" He looked up, and noticing Ivan's presence, his smile became even sunnier, and he sounded downright excited as he added: "Gotta run now, I've got company! See ya, Iggy!"

The beginning of an indignant protest from the other end of the line got cut off mid-sentence as Alfred punched the button to the end the call.

"Ivan! Good to see you again, man!"

And just like that, he hugged the taller man, squeezing him tightly. For a moment, Ivan seemed to be paralyzed, not having expected such a hearty greeting (and because Alfred surely was tapping into his inhuman strength just then), but just when he was about to return the gesture, Alfred released him – well, almost – and looked up, all smiles.

"So, how have you been? I'd wish you a Merry Christmas, but it's a little late for that now, huh? I gotta make sure I get that straight next time! Hey, maybe you could come to my place for the holidays, then I definitely wouldn't get it mixed up –"

Ivan wished he could have just stood there and listened to this somewhat characteristic rambling a little longer, but he felt that they were being watched now, and even as he remembered with a pang of remorse what he had told his boss, he couldn't stop a soft chuckle from escaping his lips. Miraculously, it did the trick to make Alfred pause and blink as if in confusion.

"It's good to see you again too… Alfred."

"Did you just… laugh?"

"Indeed. Forgive me for cutting off your speech, but we are being awaited."

"Huh?" Alfred's gaze wandered over to the door where Ivan's boss stood, who needed only the look in his eyes to tell them that it was high time they moved along. So quickly that it could have easily been missed, a glance was stolen at Alfred's arms, which had still half-enveloped Ivan in the welcoming hug. Not failing to notice that glance, Alfred let go as suddenly as if he had been electrified, and he nearly stumbled on his own words as he hurriedly said: "Oh yeah, sure! Wouldn't wanna hold up the meeting…!"

With quite a snap in his step, he hurried into the meeting room, and Ivan followed with a well-hidden wisp of dismay because the pleasantly warm embrace had come to an end so abruptly.

The meeting went absolutely fine, but Ivan couldn't concentrate properly since he couldn't help but notice an unusual change in Alfred's behavior. The blond seemed rather distressed about something, occasionally muttering things under his breath or simply mouthing the words, and when he did happen to meet Ivan's eyes, he reminded the Russian of the way Toris had used to look at him when fearing that he had screwed up and was in for it. But why was Alfred acting like that now? He hadn't done anything wrong…

When it was finally time for the lunch break and it had been decided when the meeting would continue, Alfred swiftly left the room, closely followed by Ivan.

"Alfred, wait!"

A gloved hand reached out and grabbed his arm. Instantly, the American stopped in his tracks.

"Did I do something wrong before the meeting commenced? Or was it something I said? If so, I apologize profoundly…"

"No, it wasn't your fault… it was mine…"

The grip on his arm lessened as Ivan moved to stand beside him.

"How was it your fault?"

"I don't think your boss was all that cool with how I hadn't let go of you. It's not good to hold on to others against their will," Alfred muttered, staring at the checkered floor.

"I know not what my superior thought about that incident, but I want to let you know that it wasn't against my will," a soft voice informed him.

Alfred looked up, a hint of uncertainty still apparent in his expression. "Really?"

"Trust me; if it had been against my will, I would have found a way to _make_ you let go."

Perhaps that had not been his wisest choice of words, Ivan mused as he watched the look on Alfred's face change from uncertain to alarmed. But "doing something about his creepiness" was not all that easy, for that was just… well, the way he was, really. He couldn't turn himself inside-out, after all, even though he was more than an average human.

"Riiiiight…"

Perhaps a change of subject would be a good idea. "Did you receive my letter?"

"Huh? Oh yeah, that! Sure, but I figured I could let it be since I'd meet you personally before another letter would get to you."

It made Ivan happy to see that Alfred's usual grin had returned.

"Then would you be so kind to elaborate about those instructions of yours?"

"First of all, I really wasn't doubting that you know how to solve a puzzle; I mean, you're a smart guy and all… You mean you've put it all together?"

"Admittedly, no. The sky has yet to be completed."

"So you saved that part for last? Heck, I can't blame ya; I do the same thing. Isn't it boring when you've just got shades of blue to deal with? You know, I used to pore over puzzles with Iggy when I was little. He always bitched a lot because I just couldn't sit still long enough and got bored when I couldn't fit any pieces together. Apparently it can improve your concentration skills or something, but I was always more fond of playing ball and running around…"

And he was off again, rambling as he recalled memories of the many times that Arthur had fruitlessly tried to help him get into the art of puzzle-solving. Ivan's question remained unanswered, but the Russian didn't mind, for he was in Alfred's company now, something he had been longing for ever since receiving his present, and he was content with just listening to the other's incessant chatter as long as they could just spend time together.

For a while, they just stood there, then Alfred decided that it was time for a bathroom break. All the while, he nattered away as one subject always led to another with no end in sight while Ivan merely responded once or twice with preciously few words as well as a "Da" every now and then, a small but genuine smile never leaving his face. If someone had seen them in those moments, one would have gotten the impression that they were long-time friends instead of rivals until recently. As they finally exited the building, Alfred was still in full flow, and only God knew how long that would have lasted, had it not been for an interruption by a certain ticked Englishman.

"Alfred! Bloody hell, where are your manners? Impolite is far too nice a word to describe how rude it is to keep somebody waiting after you had invited them to lunch! Honestly, one would think I put no effort at all into raising you!"

The only reaction to this mini-rant was a laugh from Alfred as he launched himself at the former Empire. "I missed you too, Iggy!"

"Oi! Did you listen to what I said? If I had wanted a free hug, I would have asked for one!"

"You never said I'm not allowed to be happy to see you again." Alfred mock-pouted as he released Arthur, who grumbled and pretended to dust off his clothes. "Will you quit being a sourpuss if we hit the road now? As in: right now?"

"Throw in an apology for making me wait, and I shall agree."

"Geez, you drive a hard bargain, but fine! I'm sorry you've been cooling your heels because of me, okay?"

Finally satisfied, a smile began to dawn on the Brit's face. "That's more like it. Now let's get cracking before your lunch break will be over and you haven't had a chance to stuff your face."

"Yay! C'mon, Ivan!" Alfred called cheerfully to the Russian who was still standing at the top of the stairs.

"What?"

"_What_?"

Both other men uttered the same response, though Arthur's incensed exclamation easily drowned out Ivan's voice, which had been soft due to his surprise.

Alfred climbed the stairs again, grabbed Ivan's hand and tugged to make him follow, which he did.

"I thought you wanted to have lunch with _me_! Why are you inviting that swine to come along?"

The youngest of the three nations grimaced. "It wouldn't be cool to leave him behind while this meeting is supposed to improve our countries' relationship. And besides, don't call him that!"

"He called you a capitalist pig, remember? And you returned the fire with 'commie bastard', so don't get on my case!"

"Things have changed, Iggy! We're pals now, right, Ivan?" Alfred asked, looking up hopefully.

"Um… yes, indeed. We're… friends." He cursed himself for that second pause, but the only reason it had snuck into his response was that actually, if he was perfectly honest, he didn't want to be just "pals" with Alfred, but rather –

"I cannot say that I'm buying it," Arthur grumbled, eying Ivan suspiciously, "I don't like that pause he made."

"Did you get up on the wrong side of the bed today? Be a sport and let him come along! In fact, when you called me before the meeting, I offered that you could come to lunch _too_, remember?"

"You mean you knew you'd want to go eat with him from the very start?" Arthur sounded incredulous, but Alfred was unfazed by that.

"Well, duh."

A very tense moment of silence fell, but then Arthur caved in. "Alright, fine. Stupid, rash little…ugh… Better not come crying to me when…" Here, his voice dwindled to an indistinguishable mumble before his head snapped up again as he glared at Ivan. "But no funny stuff, Ruskie, understand?"

Ivan's eyes glinted at the other man's obvious distrust; even if he had been blind, he could have easily been able to tell that in this case, his presence wasn't welcome. However, he valued Alfred's opinion more than Arthur's. "If you would politely do the same, nobody will get hurt, da?"

The Englishman's green eyes narrowed at that remark, then he shook his head and gruffly prompted Alfred to "get going already".

"Hey, do I get to pick where we'll chow down? I'd love you forever if we could go to Mickey D's, Iggy!" Alfred chirped as the trio wandered off.

Arthur groaned. "Why don't you admit that you're actually trying to kill me, you twit?"

"Kill you?" Alfred repeated, horror-struck, "What makes you think I'd want to do that? Mickey D's isn't _that_ bad…"

"You're right, it's not; it's worse. Come to think of it, it's a miracle you haven't keeled over yet," was the flat retort, "Can't I offer you something homemade instead?"

"_Now_ who's trying to kill who?"

"Why you ungrateful little…! You used to _love_ my homemade meals!"

"That was so long ago…"

The two of them continued to bicker in this fashion for a while, being too engrossed in it to even notice that they were passing some perfectly fine non-fast-food restaurants. Ivan walked alongside the other two nations in complete silence, listening with half an ear as he observed his surroundings. He was a cross between amused and annoyed by the conversation he wasn't being a part of: while he couldn't deny that it was quite fun to see Arthur getting so agitated while not even being responsible for that himself, the insistent back talk of the bushy-browed man didn't sit well with him. Surely Alfred could be having more pleasant conversations with him, right? Or better still: with Ivan himself. Why couldn't he just –

"Hey Ivan, would _you_ mind going to Mickey D's?" Alfred's voice suddenly interrupted his thoughts. Ivan blinked and found himself staring into what closely bordered on puppy-eyes. His face heated up at that look – hopefully it didn't show too much! Those blue eyes captivated all his attention, hence he didn't see how Arthur glared at him from his spot on Alfred's left.

"…Whatever you want, Америка."

Arthur bristled at the sudden use of Russian, and while Alfred had cursed it more than once during the Cold War, he didn't seem to mind now, especially since he understood perfectly well what had been said.

"Awesome! Let's go, paradise is waiting!" With those words, Alfred proceeded to make a mad dash for the nearest McDonald's, leaving particularly Arthur to futilely attempt escape due to the iron grip which he had on the hands of his companions.

* * *

I hope this was at least a little bit entertaining. Remember that is my first time writing any of the Hetalia characters, so I beg you not to be too hard on me in terms of potential OOC-ness. And please, please let me know what you think! Feedback is such a wonderful gift for an author, you know?

Russian translation (I'm guessing that pretty much everyone already knows it, though): Америка = America

I'll try to get the next chapter done as soon as possible, but I also want to finish a little fic about the soccer game USA vs. Ghana. Yeah, I know it's late, but I'm always late, so there ;)


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